


false starts and casual physical contact

by helloshepard



Series: prowlcoswave [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Fix-It, Hugs, Multi, Pre-Relationship, Tumblr Prompt, minor OCs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:20:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22708378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloshepard/pseuds/helloshepard
Summary: (written as a response to a tumblr prompt.)“Some forbidden love, “ Cosmos said. “When I’ve got someone helping the guy I’m trying to court. Hey—if I can’t figure out what to tell Soundwave, does that mean I can ask you?”
Relationships: Cosmos/Soundwave, Prowl/Cosmos, Prowl/Cosmos/Soundwave, Prowl/Soundwave
Series: prowlcoswave [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633282
Comments: 8
Kudos: 70





	false starts and casual physical contact

**Author's Note:**

> prowlcoswave! prowlcoswave!

Of all the things Prowl had ever imagined he might end up doing if and when the war ended, reuniting Decepticons with their conjuxes had never been one of them.

“I mean, we’re not technically conjuxes,” Outburst was saying. “After the siege at the Perseus Veil, Sparknote and I were separated before we could complete the fourth step. So we’re technically not conjuxes. Yet.”

Outburst was very obviously an MTO—likely one of the last batches. He had that overeager, slightly desperate look of a mech who didn’t know what to do with himself off the battlefield, and he was gawking at Prowl as though Prowl was a sparkeater who had decided to sit himself behind a desk and devote half a day to locating a long-lost-almost-conjux.

“Uh-huh.”

“We never even discussed the fourth step,” Outburst said. “And even if we had—I still don’t know what I should do! It’s been half a million years since we saw each other. Sparknote’s been traveling the galaxy and I’ve been spinning my wheels patrolling warworlds. All the stuff he’s seen—how can I even compare?”

Prowl looked over the edge of his screen and peered at Outburst.

“It seems Sparknote has been looking for you as well,” Prowl said. “Changing your designation resulted in the queries being erroneously rerouted.”

“I told—I told him I was thinking about changing it,” Outburst said. “Are you sure that’s the right person? Maybe he doesn’t want to see me. Maybe—”

Wordlessly, Prowl pushed the datapad over to Outburst, who took one look at the image of the Deception named Sparknote (third lieutenant, last assigned to the Alpha Exploratory Corps) and let out a sharp, static-laden exhale. His tactical HUD flashed, and Prowl had a microsecond of warning before Outburst leapt over the desk to tackle Prowl in a strut-crushing embrace.

“It’s him,” Outburst said, as Prowl tried to decide whether to shove the Deception away or return the gesture. He wondered if Outburst could hear his processor spinning. “It’s him, it’s him,  _ it’s him.” _

Decision made, Prowl stiffened his shoulders and Outburst jumped back as though he’d been shocked. His leg banged the desk and a datapad clattered to the floor.

“I’m so sorry,” Outburst said. “I just—”

Prowl held up a placating hand as his vision slowly returned to normal. “It’s fine. Good luck with your act of devotion, Outburst.”

Outburst beamed.

* * *

Within the hour, Prowl’s shift was finished, and sooner rather than later, Prowl set down his datapads and locked the door to his office. The halls were no more crowded than they usually were—most mechs completed their shifts at the same time Prowl had finished his. Prowl made a mental note to adjust his schedule tomorrow in order to accommodate mechs who needed to see him after hours. Carefully, Prowl navigated the throngs of Decepticons as he made his way back to habsuite.

Since accepting the position of deputy security chief two months ago, the rate of glares and side eyes had dropped significantly. His first week on the station, he had received 39 such looks, up to a high of 988 the week he began his job, to a low of 19 this week.

Prowl opened the habsuite door and stepped in.

His plating was warm where Outburst had embraced him. Not overly so, not nearly enough to be irritating. Just warm.

“Hey.” Cosmos said. The Autobot’s frame was relaxed—he had hardly bothered to turn and see if it was actually Prowl entering the habsuite.

Cosmos usually worked the overnight shift at the comms, since it was quieter, and, Prowl knew, gave him ample time to flirt with Soundwave via comlink.

Prowl grabbed a cube from the dispenser and sat beside Cosmos. He tried to peer over the Autobot’s shoulder to see what he was reading, but Cosmos was simply too tall. After a moment, Cosmos tilted the datapad up so Prowl could see.

“Translating again?”

“Yeah.” Cosmos tapped the datapad. “I’m on the classics—but I’ve got circuits older than the ‘classics’.”

“It’s a relative term,” Prowl said neutrally. “Anything interesting?”

“Unless you’re into uncomfortably saccharine, human, descriptions of forbidden love, not really.” Cosmos paused. “D’you think Soundwave’d get it if I sent him some of these?”

Cosmos held up the datapad.

“You’re not experiencing forbidden love.”

“Hah.” Cosmos gave the datapad one last, irritated look and switched it off. “Feels like it, sometimes.”

“If it helps,” Prowl said, entirely unsure whether or not his next words would actually help. “Soundwave feels the same—about the whole ‘forbidden love’, thing, at least.”

“Oh.” Cosmos gesticulated with the datapad, waving it mere inches from Prowl’s face.  _ “I knew it!  _ You two do talk about me.”

“No more than we talk about anyone else,” Prowl lied, and Cosmos scoffed. “He has shown me a few of the exchanges you two engaged in.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Cosmos mumbled and tossed the datapad onto the table. “I’m really gonna kill him.”

“I was the one who asked,” Prowl offered. “I wanted to know why he was so distracted.”

“He could’ve lied!”

“I would have known.”

Prowl picked up the datapad Cosmos had been translating and studied it for a moment. Saccharine indeed.

Prowl set it down.

“He needed help,” Prowl said, finally. “Sometimes, he doesn’t exactly know how to reply.”

“Primus.” Cosmos said. “Is that why he sometimes takes two hours to respond?”

Prowl nodded, unsure if the level of embarrassment he was feeling was proportionate to the current situation.

“I was the one who suggested comparing you to the green circuit nebula,” Prowl admitted.

“So instead of overworking yourselves in your off duty hours,” Cosmos began. “You overwork yourselves trying to come up with ways to flirt with me.”

“That is only a small fraction of what we do,” Prowl said.

“Figures.”

And that seemed to be that.

Prowl finished his cube and debated getting up for another, then decided against it. Cosmos’s frame was pleasantly warm against his side, and the mech would be leaving for his shift in a few minutes anyway.

“I liked it,” Cosmos said, finally. “What you wrote. Or he wrote. Your collaboration, I guess.”

“He meant it,” Prowl said, and judging by the tilt of the Autobot’s head, imagined Cosmos was smiling under his battlemask.

“Some forbidden love, “ Cosmos said. “When I’ve got someone helping the guy I’m trying to court. Hey—if I can’t figure out what to tell Soundwave, does that mean I can ask you?”

As if on cue, Cosmos’s comlink chimed.

Cosmos looked at Prowl, then sheepishly looked at his chat log, then equally sheepishly showed Prowl the message.

“Send him a song,” Prowl suggested. “Some of that earth music he likes.”

“Hm.” Cosmos typed his response, and together, they waited.

A moment later, the comlink chimed again.

“He said…” Cosmos trailed off. “To tell you the gesture was appreciated?”

Prowl looked up, half-expecting to see Soundwave emerging from the ceiling.

“Telepath,” Prowl realized. “I  _ told _ him not to listen to me.”

“You want me to tell him that?”

Prowl shrugged.

“He’s—oh.” This time, Cosmos was the one to look up at the ceiling. “Not listening to you. I’m thinking loudly enough for the both of us, I guess.”

“…ah.” Prowl dared to sneak a glance at Cosmos, who looked like he had just been caught in an uncomfortable, interpersonal crossfire. “You are sitting next to me, Cosmos,” Prowl said. “It’s only natural you would be thinking about me.”

“I know!” Cosmos keyed in his reply and sent it, then turned to face Prowl fully. “It’s just…thinking, y’know?”

“Thinking?”

“Yeah.” Cosmos gestured at the datapad, then at himself. “The way he wrote it, it got me thinking.”

“About?”

Cosmos sighed.

“I think I’m in a little over my head,” Cosmos admitted. “Flirting’s nice and all, but I’ve never been in a serious relationship before. Not one I was really invested in, anyway. It’s never gotten to the point where we actually  _ do _ anything, and he listens to me, which is fine, so I know he knows I’m thinking about it, but it’s like…I want to, but the concept of it is just so uncomfortable. Does that make sense?”

Prowl thought back to Outburst.

“Yes.” 

“I kinda hoped you wouldn’t,” Cosmos said. “Just so I could ask you what I should do. You know, being an impartial, flirting-assistant and all.”

Prowl remembered how Outburst had so effortlessly cast aside thousands of years of war and hate and trauma in a moment of pure, unfiltered relief and joy. Would it be possible to learn to do that? Did he even  _ want _ to want that?

Prowl wasn’t sure.

But Cosmos did.

“I suppose the first step is to get comfortable with casual physical contact,” Prowl said. “And to define  _ casual physical contact.” _

“Makes sense,” Cosmos said. “But, I can’t really go up to a random Deception and go ‘hey I’d like to work up to kissing Soundwave, can I practice by giving you a hug?’” Cosmos looked away, then back at Prowl, and Prowl tensed, instinctively dreading the next question, simply because he didn’t have an answer. “I mean, unless you’re willing to, uh, help? Is that the right way to put it?”

“I don’t mind,” Prowl guessed. “I think. I’d…I’d tell you if I did—or when I do, at least.”

That seemed to be the safest answer—better than  _ I don’t know, _ at any rate.

Cosmos let out a slow exhale. “Okay. Here goes: Prowl. Can I give you a hug?”

He hadn’t expected Cosmos to  _ ask,  _ but he supposed that was the proper way to do it.

“Yeah,” Prowl said. “I mean, yes.”

“Okay.” Cosmos coughed awkwardly. Prowl hadn’t yet decided if that habit was endearing or annoying. “Okay?”

Moving just quickly enough to make it slightly less awkward than Prowl feared it would be, Cosmos moved forward, arms outstretched, and pulled him into an embrace.

A moment later, Prowl realized that he should probably return the gesture, and he awkwardly lifted his arms up to rest on Cosmos’s back.

“Oh.” Cosmos tensed, and for a microsecond his angles and trajectories shifted, indicating Cosmos was uncomfortable, but they settled back just as quickly, and Cosmos relaxed against Prowl’s frame.

“I guess a good hug is supposed to be two-way, huh?”

“It would seem so.” Prowl said dryly. His plating itched, but not unbearably so. He could stay like this for a while, Prowl thought, and realized with some relief that Cosmos seemed to be indicating he felt the same.

“My shift starts in a few minutes,” Cosmos said. “I should really get going.”

But he made no move to pull away, and Prowl didn’t encourage him.

**Author's Note:**

> -the 'green circuit nebula' prowl refers to is the ['green ring nebula'](https://www.nasa.gov/mission_pages/spitzer/multimedia/pia14104.html)  
> -the 'classics' cosmos has been translating is Shakespeare, specifically romeo and juliet  
> -i have no idea what song prowl suggests cosmos should send soundwave. it's entirely up to your imagination. 
> 
> anyway, feedback is always appreciated! you can reach me here, or on [tumblr](https://soundwavereporting.tumblr.com/) (+ i'm always accepting writing prompts, though i can't promise they'll be done quickly).


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